Noveau
by SerpentsAttire
Summary: Post HBP. The Final Battle has claimed the life of Harry Potter. After the funeral, Vernon Dursley reflects on the nephew he never truly knew, and is consoled by a certain raven haired, emerald eyed ghost.


-1_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Harry Potter, Vernon Dursley, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, or any other character found within J.K. Rowling's novels. She does. This story does not earn me profit, nor is it intended as any form of slander._

**Notes: **_I think I have something with death fics. Stupid plot bunnies._

_**Notes2: **I haven't managed to stumble onto a fic quite like this one, and since I won't manage it in any of my other stories, I thought a one-shot was in order._

**Warnings: **_HBP Spoilers (and WHY haven't you read it yet?), character death, and angst. _

**Noveau**

It was chilly outside. The sky was overcast, the emerald grass damp from the light drizzle of rain that had yet to cease its sorrowful falling. Thunder rumbled from the ground without a flash of lightning to accompany it. Cries of creatures unknown to mortal man echoed widely across the sky, howls of carnivores raised shivers up the spines of any who heard them.

The entire setting was unnatural. The never-ending rain, the lightning-lonely thunder, the half horse, half bird animal that kept darting around before his path. It was the sort of thing that would normally have his face contorted in rage.

But Vernon Dursley was unable to focus on anything except the small gray tomb that held his nephew's body.

The funeral had ended hours ago, but the obsessively Muggle man had been unable to bring himself to depart to the … school with his wife and son. It had been a wonderful service -- a vigil, more people than Vernon had thought his young nephew was capable of knowing. Several people had spoken -- spoken words about Harry James Potter that Vernon was quite certain he had never thought to put in the same sentence as the name of the boy who had lived with him for sixteen years.

'_And now there is no time for that.'_

And it struck him hard, then and there, like a blunt mallet being slammed into his chest. Never before had he complimented Harry on anything. Never before had he hugged him -- hell, he had never even offered a gentle pat on the shoulder! Half of the time, he had never even called Harry by his name. It had always been "boy" or "you". "Freak" was also a bitter favorite.

For a man who desperately ached to be normal, he had been anything but. Denying his only nephew support, kindness, a family …

Love.

Cautiously, he maneuvered himself closer to the gray tomb, brown eyes falling warily upon the much larger white one beside it as he did so, but only briefly, a harsh flicker of his nephew's "hope torch" bringing his mind back to where it belonged. Slowly, he lowered his eyes, studying the writing on the grand marble, his hands itching to reach for it, to run his fingers across the etched words, but unable to do so.

**Harry James Potter**

**July 31st, 1980 - December 31st, 1997**

**Beloved son, godson, "brother", and friend**

"_Thank you, Harry Potter, for saving us. We are forever indebted to you, and shall never forget."_

_**Order of Merlin, First Class. Defeater of Dark Lord Voldemort. Boy Who Lived. Savior of the Wizarding World. Hero.**_

'_Hero,' _the title rolled into his mind with an attached emotion the man could not decipher.

"_**Yeah. Odd title, that, isn't it?" **_

The voice startled Vernon from his thoughts, and his dark eyes glanced up in horror, jaw dropping tall at the site that greeted him.

Harry Potter, his nephew, standing atop his own tomb, his form a light silvery color, his emerald eyes still shining as bright as he could remember. There was a small smile playing across his face, s mixture of both happiness and grief as their eyes locked. _**"Hullo, Uncle Vernon," **_he greeted gently.

Vernon could not form a proper response. It was not so much that he was surprised at the appearance of a ghost -- he had 'seen' several of them whilst he had stayed at his nephew's school. It was more so the fact that a boy he knew to have far closer people to visit, was currently smiling at him, of all people.

"_**I didn't think you would come, honestly," **_his nephew whispered, glancing away it what was obvious embarrassment. **_"We've never really gotten along. My funeral was the last place I expected to ever see you. You hated me."_**

"You -- you ruined everything for me!" Vernon sputtered, another wave of disconcertable emotion piercing his heart as his nephew's eyes betrayed the hurt his face refused to give away. "I just wanted to have my family and a normal life!"

"_**And I didn't?" **_There was no anger, no malice. An innocent question that made Vernon stop in his tracks. **_"Until I went to Hogwarts, all I wanted was a family. Someone to love me, to hold me, to just be there for me. I would have given anything for that." _**Emerald eyes died down to a soft, lonesome green. _**"And then all of the Boy Who Lived nonsense started up, and Voldemort just **had **to come back. A normal life would have been nice just then, too."**_

"_**Why wouldn't you let me have it? Did you honestly hate me that much?" **_

And for a moment, Vernon Dursley, who usually had an answer for everything, or some way out of it, had to pause. Had to think. Did he hate Harry Potter? His nephew? Resented him, perhaps, but then again, he had resented Dudley at first, for coming in and ruining the small, happy life he had built with Petunia.

"_**You don't, if that's what you're trying to figure out." **_Vernon looked up in surprise, only to find that Harry was now sitting directly in front of him, the smile back in place. **_"You don't hate me. I just needed to ask … just needed to be sure."_**

"I was cruel to you," Vernon whispered with a frown. Oddly enough, his nephew simply shrugged.

"_**The world has been cruel to me. I have forgiven them. See, there's this really strange thing about death. You have to learn to let go of your past grudges, or you're not allowed in Heaven. Frankly, I'd rather forgive people than spend the rest of eternity in Hell with Voldemort."**_

And then Harry bore down on Vernon, so close that the coolness that was now his nephew's essence was enveloping him. Suddenly, he was inundated in emotions -- emotions he knew not to be his, but Harry's. Fear, loss, pain, hope, grief. He could feel everything Harry had felt throughout his short life. Could feel _why. _

And then, just as suddenly as he had attacked, Harry withdrew, eyes bright once more. He was gazing at Vernon as though he knew something that the elder man did not.

"_**Go back to Aunt Petunia and Dudley, Uncle Vernon,"**_ he ordered gently. **_"And just love them. It's not too late for you to fix some of the mistakes you have made. Don't worry about trying to clear my reputation with everyone in Surrey, either," _**he added, just incase the idea ever crossed his uncle's mind. _**"I already forgive you."**_

"_I forgive you."_

"Mr. Dursley?"

The sound of a normal, non apparition voice had Vernon's head snapping back, eyes landing on two figures that were now very familiar to his eyes. A tall girl, with long curly brown hair, whose honey eyes were crimson red by marking of physical grief. The boy beside her, taller still, bright red hair dampened to dark by the rain, cerulean eyes hard as they glared at him. They had stayed in his home for a month this summer, much to his and his family's chagrin. It was with a start that he realized he didn't even know their names.

"What are you doing here?" It was the girl that had spoken the first time. Her voice was frail, trembling as though it were ready to break. Before he had a chance to speak, however, the boy cut him off.

"You shouldn't be here," he growled, and Vernon could hear the choke of suppressed sobs in his voice. "Leave."

But suddenly, Vernon was struck with the strong urge to stay. His nephew's ghostly form was still behind him, blocked from their eyes by his large bulk. A desire to protect what was already dead. A desire to protect what had been his to defend for sixteen years. Where did he get off trying to do so _now?_

"_**It's alright, Uncle Vernon," **_Harry whispered, and the two figures before them gasped. **_"They're … my siblings. I've been waiting for them."_**

And just like that, Vernon stepped away.

"H-Harry?" The girl whispered, tears streaming down her face. Before Vernon was even five feet away, she was already running forward, toward the tomb, feet sloshing in the flooded ground. The temptation to turn and watch the reunion was strong, almost too strong, but the red haired boy's voice stopped him.

"You don't deserve to be here." Vernon turned toward him. He saw what had used to make him reel back in disgust -- the same characteristics of his nephew. Defiant eyes, a proud stature, a presence that seemed to scream magic. But now, all he could do was acknowledge it with awe.

"I know," he murmured in response. Apparently, such an admission was not enough to appease the teenager.

"You had your chance with him," he hissed. "You had the opportunity Hermione and I would have killed for -- to have had him almost all your life. You treated him like he was _dirt_." There was the anger Vernon had been expecting. The fury. The vice. "And yet, he forgave you, didn't he?"

"_I forgive you."_

"Are you … are you crying, Mr. Dursley?" The angry voice was now tentative, disbelieving. Vernon snorted in disgust, brushing away the blur that had encased his vision.

"The rain fell in my eyes!" He snapped. "Go with your friend. I'm leaving."

And with that, Vernon walked off, leaving his nephew and his friends … _his siblings _…alone to the time he had no right to intrude upon.

Harry Potter had forgiven him. Him. Vernon Dursley. An uncle whose actions would have had him arrested for child abuse. Locking him in a cupboard, refusing to feed him, dead bolting him in a room, smacking him around, threatening him.

Were the images of frightened emerald eyes of a five-year-old child real, or just a figment of his imagination?

That boy had been right.

He did not deserve to be here.

**End**

_Hey. Kinda bitter. Short, too, but it was supposed to be. I'm off of what to think on it. I'm actually revamping a similar story from Ron and Hermione's point of view that, if you liked this one, will like as well. _

_Anyway, guys, constructive criticism would be more than greatly appreciated. I'd even reply and thank you for it. I'm kinda banking on a career as a professional writer of all sorts of things, so any helpful comments on my writings are a must have._

_Thank you!_

_Well, gotta get off of here. Roulette is in desperate need of a new chapter. Hamilcar's incessant updating in making me look bad. -wink- Check the profile for updating news and the such._

_Later,_

_Me_


End file.
